Yesterday I had the pleasure of picking up the very first Harbor Seal pup of the season. In fact, it actually isn't even Harbor Seal season yet. Elephant Seal season only officially started yesterday and usually they get a good month or so to themselves. So my Harbor's a preemie, for sure. She's even wearing her beautiful fluffy lanugo coat (which is normally shed in utero). But she's fairly fat and sassy (8 kg and bitey) so my hopes are high. Since they're both looking at a long stay in the hospital, I found it quite fitting to name my seal in my second cousin's honor. And so I give you sweet Melissa.
I get my updates on the bipedal Melissa third hand so I can't say for sure how things are going. It does sound like "brain dead" may have been a premature diagnosis. The doctors are performing tests they wouldn't be doing if the situation was totally bleak. So again I'm allowing myself to hope. I was right about the feeding tube, however, so obviously her condition could be better. I take great comfort in knowing that Melissa's grandmother and great grandmother are about as close to God as you can get without wearing wings. If anyone can manifest a miracle, it's those two.
My own Melissa gave me a humbling scare last night. She started coughing and spitting up after her midnight feed. I was pretty calm until she expelled her electrolytes through her nose. The vet tech that I woke up assured me that I was not an evil, incompetent seal killer. Apparently it was more a burp gone wrong than a problem with my technique. Still, I was unsettled. Then Erik reminded me he once laughed so hard he shot milk out his nose (all over his brother's pizza, no less). Amused, but no less anxious. Only this morning, when I found her sleeping peacefully, did I allow myself to take a breath.
He knows. He always knows.
9 months ago